Long time, no blog. I’ve been thinking of blogging many times in the past week, but… I don’t know. It kind of impedes the blogging process when I don’t have a cohesive paragraph. Heck, I haven’t even had a cohesive sentence to put on Facebook.
My husband left me for this woman named San Antonio. I bet her butt is bigger than mine. Regardless, it’s a temporary situation until he decides everything is indeed bigger in Texas (and hotter) and decides to come back to me. So I sit in wait with a 3 year old who is taking a stuffed airplane to school because she knows that her dad is on an airplane.
3 days left. 72 hours. I remember when Little J was first born, only a few months old, and he left me for Texas. I seriously counted down minutes until he came back. Did the subtraction and then the hour-to-minute conversion as I was bouncing our discontent infant on a yoga ball. It kept my mind occupied somewhat. There was always excitement when we broke another 100 minute mark. “Only 3,899 minutes left!” This time it isn’t nearly so bad. I’m not even doing the hour-to-minute conversion. I only did the day-to-hour conversion because if you’re anything like me, you’re not quite sure if the person means 2.50 days, 3.49 days or something in between.
I’m going to miss sleeping next to him. It will be very weird to sleep by myself after not doing so for so long. After my college roommate kicked me out of the room for my awful proclivity of staying out past 10pm, I realized how much I liked sleeping next to people. I don’t like sleeping alone. I will do nearly everything else alone, and I actually prefer doing most things alone, except for sleeping. I don’t do well sleeping alone. In college I even had a bed buddy. We were just friends but would sleep in the same bed together quite often because we didn’t like to sleep alone. Just sleep – really, it is possible to do that with boys. And talk. Talking, sleeping, it was like a slumber party without the ice cubes down your shirt and adding in some Playstation. If you total the number of times I’ve slept alone since I was 17, well, it’s a pathetically low number because of my ability to crash at guys' places.
I have no idea why I hate sleeping alone so much. Maybe my mother abandoned me in my crib for hours on end or something. (Actually, that theory has some merit.) Even so, there are indeed advantages of sleeping next to someone:
1. 1. If a burglar decides to shoot while he’s in your room, your odds of being picked move from 100% to 50%.
2. 2. If there are any strange noises or even kid noises, you can slap your bed partner awake while you go back to sleep.
3. 3. If you are prone to bad dreams, having someone with you reduces the likelihood of them appearing and/or the severity.
They are stupid reasons. I get that (although I am very fond of 2 and use it quite extensively). So it really must just be a comfort thing.
Tally ho on my first night sleeping alone in quite a while. I will try to repress the fact that there are 18 ways to break into my house, and we don’t have a security system. I’ll sleep with my phone under my pillow and a mag light within arm’s reach. If I learned anything from my days working in college security, it’s how to wield a mag light.
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